They clash dreadfully with my décor. But I’m happy we have them: a pink sticker on my phone, and a pink document on my fridge. These little pieces of paper are my Go-To’s, and I like it: we signed up with hospice.
I’ll interject here, something so sweet: I took Effie’s hand and told her a nurse was coming to check on her. She immediately began to cry. When I queried why, she said, sobbing, “I’m such a… I’m such a… thank you so much for taking such good care of me.” She’s done this before; “…such a…” means “a bother.” Ya-gotta love this little lady.
So then we got to meet E and C. They’re nice. C will check on Effie weekly, and E will be there whenever we need her. And there’s J, for personal care. She is a good friend we know through square dancing, who works for this hospice agency. The nurse informed us that J had requested to be assigned to us—if we were okay with it. What a blessing!
Effie’s doctor had already approved us for hospice, and this visit yielded no further prognoses—which is fine (no news is good news). And I’m happy to report that the nurse gave us good marks regarding Effie’s quality of care (yay!), and in her professional opinion our current treatment plan is right on track.
Oh! Speaking of being on track, get a load of this: During their visit, I do not recall Effie uttering one discernible syllable. But afterward, when I told Effie they had gone, she said, “Well, I’m glad they came and that you know you’re on the right track.” …What??? Are you kidding me? Seriously, it was like she’d been faking it for eight months, Hahaha!
While here, these two team members assured us they defer to us (that’s a quote), supplied state-of-the-art first aid helps and showed me how to use them, and set David’s mind at ease about concerns he had. They’re qualified, non-profit, and local.
So far, so good.